


Of Quidditch and Coffee

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: I used to live next door to you when we were kids and you wouldn’t let me play fake quidditch with you so I still have a grudge against you but man you got hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short, fluffy, one-shot I wrote on tumblr a while ago. Part 2 to come very soon.

Bellamy has just enough time between classes to stop at the coffee shop he’s been meaning to try for ages now.

A bell jingles as he pushes the door open. (It’s  _that_ kind of coffee shop, the hipster kind that Octavia’s been obsessed with for the last couple months.) He steps up to the end of the line, eyes focused on the menu board. By the time he’s decided on an Americana, there are still a couple people in front of him.

His eyes flick to the barista taking orders at the register. She’s blonde, and clearly trying not to scowl at the customer who’s been deliberating over their order for the past five minutes.

Hold on, he knows that scowl.

_Clarke Griffin?_ He knew she was at Ark U too, but he hadn’t really expected to see her around. It’s a big campus.

His next thought comes unbidden.  _Shit, she got hot._ He kind of wants to slap himself for that.

It wasn’t that she was ugly before, but—well, it was a long story.

They’d grown up as next door neighbors in a quiet suburb outside of Tondc. His sister, Octavia, was closer to her in age than he was, and they had been thick as thieves. He and Clarke hadn’t  _disliked_  each other at first, but they certainly weren’t friends. He didn’t really know why; maybe it was because he was the older brother who was too cool to hang with his sister’s friends, maybe she wanted nothing to do with him. At this point he honestly had no idea.

One day his mother had kicked him and O out of the house, insisting they go wreak havoc someplace else for a while.

So of course Octavia wanted to go over to Clarke’s, pulling Bellamy along with her. Upon their arrival, Clarke animatedly told her friend about her idea for a new game. Quidditch. (Harry Potter being one of the building blocks of their friendship)

Bellamy had read the books too, everyone had really, but he wasn’t particularly keen to play make-believe with his kid sister and her friend.

That is, until it was nearly an hour later and Bellamy was getting tired of just sitting around. And quidditch  _did_  look like fun…

But when he’d asked to play, Clarke’s answer had been immediate.

“No! No boys allowed!”

The rest was history. It was one of those moments that wasn’t really a big deal but was somehow ended up as the first step toward their rivalry.

That was all years ago now, and Bellamy doesn’t really hold any grudges about it, they’d been stupid kids. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun with this.

When it’s finally his turn to order, he’s smirking.

“Hey Princess.”

Her eyes shoot up in recognition of the nickname. It’s what he’d call her when he’d particularly wanted to piss her off. Usually worked too.

He sees the recognition pass across her face, followed by a blank expression as if she’s deciding how to react. There’s a faint pink tinge to her cheeks, he thinks. They haven’t see each other in nearly 8 years.

“Bellamy Blake,” she says after a moment. “You pulled the heads off of all my dolls.” Her voice is carefully neutral.

“You wouldn’t let me play quidditch.” He arches an eyebrow.

She stares him down for a second, then cracks a smile, “Yeah, well I wasn’t about to share my best idea with the kid that looked down on me all the time was I?”

He laughs at that and all of a sudden he’s thinking that maybe this girl he used to know is witty and funny and she’s definitely  _gorgeous_  and he’d really like to know her better.

Which is why he opens his mouth and says, “Hey, we should catch up sometime.” He thinks he’s clever when he adds, “Know any good coffee shops?”

She just laughs at him—it’s a nice sound, he decides—and takes his order.

He doesn’t allow himself to be too disappointed, he’s not an idiot, not completely. They don’t know each other and she doesn’t owe him anything.

He feels stupid all over again when he gets his drink a few minutes later. She’s not the one who hands it to him, but it’s her handwriting that’s scrawled across the bottom of the cup; a phone number, followed by “ _I get off at 5._ ” He looks up to catch her eyes where she stands behind the counter.

She’s smiling, almost like she knows she made him nervous by not answering right away, but there’s also a flush at her cheeks, so he thinks maybe he can forgive her.

He texts her during class later because he’s bored and it’s  _possible_ that he can’t stop thinking about the girl he used to terrorize as a child. To be fair, she terrorized him right back.

 

_3:21 pm_

_Is brewing coffee any more exciting than an ecology lecture? -Bellamy_

He doesn’t really expect her to respond, she  _is_  still working, but his screen lights up a few minutes later.

 

_3:29 pm_

_Probably not, considering I’m just standing around. Surprising how few people want coffee at 3 in the afternoon. –C_

He smiles down at his phone.

 

_3:32 pm_

_Guess the crowd only comes early or late, huh? –B_

_3:36 pm_

_Yeah, luckily I’m hanging out with this jerk I grew up with later. I’m spending my spare time now brainstorming ways to make him squirm. –C_

Another message from her, a minute later.

 

_3:37 pm_

_Although seems like he’s got his act together, so maybe I’ll cut him some slack. His perfectly-tousled-douche-bag hair still pisses me off though. –C_

He types out a quick reply.

 

_3:39 pm_

_Oh, it’s on Griffin. Me and my  perfectly tousled hair will be there at 5 to make you eat those words. –B_

_3:43 pm_

_Don’t be late. –C_

He wasn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! Clarke's POV this time. Hope you enjoy it!

Shit. _Shit_. Clarke is meeting Bellamy freaking Blake, aka the antagonist of her childhood, for _coffee_ in less than half an hour. And that’s not even the worst part.

Sometime in the 8 years since she’s seen, him he’s become incredibly hot. And she doesn’t use that word lightly. Just her luck that her nemesis, or…ex-nemesis she muses, is somehow now both charming _and_ gorgeous.

She’s managed to keep her cool in the texts they’ve been exchanging through the afternoon, and she means it when she says he’s changed. It’s not just the superficial things, either. He seems…sincere. And a sincere smile from Bellamy Blake does things to her that she’d rather not admit.

Clarke’s a Gryffindor, through and through. Growing up with Harry Potter, it’s kind of a given to know what house you belong to. And while some people weren’t sure exactly where they fit, Clarke had known since day one. Gryffindor. Proud, fierce, loyal, stubborn, brave.

And maybe it’s stupid that she still holds on to that, she’s 21 years old dammit, but it’s such a part of her that she can’t let it go.

Bellamy Blake, as far as she cared to know throughout her childhood, was a damn Slytherin.  Not the type of Slytherin that was just cunning and ambitious, mind you. No, he had been the worst sort; self-serving, pretentious, and rude.

So it’s kind of a shock for her to have to reconsider his personality now. (Gryffindor, remember? She’ll freely admit to being a bit stubborn and stuck in her first impressions.)

She has to save her house reflections for another time though, because her shift ends in ten minutes and she still has to finish cleaning up. SkyBox closes early on Fridays; turns out college students would rather be at a frat party or a bar than a tiny coffee shop on Friday nights. Go figure.

He isn’t late.

Not that she’s surprised.

She looks up at the jingle of the bell to see him walking through the door, perfectly tousled hair and all. It’s incredibly hard for her not to notice how good he looks in dark wash jeans and a somewhat fitted t-shirt.

By that time she’s sent Monty and Harper home, insisting she doesn’t mind closing. And it’s not that she _never_ offers to close, but her coworkers still seem surprised and she has to convince herself it has nothing to do with her wanting to talk to a certain dark haired boy without any distractions.

“Hey,” he says easily when he catches sight of her where she’s wiping down the counter, “Need any help cleaning up?” He’s conversational, like they’ve been cordial toward each other for longer than the last 6 hours.

Everything he’s done since she saw him this morning has taken her by surprise, which is why she just stares at him for a moment.

“What? Something on my face?” he asks playfully, like he knows exactly how she expected him to act and delights in proving her wrong.

She’s pretty glad he’s proving her wrong too, and his tone is so casual that she decides, on a whim, to just speak her mind.

“I used to swear up and down that you were the _worst_ type of Slytherin, when we were kids,” she says, and to his credit, he doesn’t look at her like she’s crazy. Instead an amused smirk spreads across his face.

Taking that as encouragement, she goes on. “You know, very self-assured—not that you’re not now—” she blushes a bit but doesn’t stop, “but also just mean-spirited for the heck of it. So now I have to justify why a self-serving Slytherin would come in here and be charming as hell toward the girl he used to terrorize.”

By the time she finishes, she can tell it’s taking everything he has not to laugh.

“Okay, first,” he says, his words somewhat stunted by his almost-laughter, “we were kids. You were my kid sister’s friend. It was kind of my _job_ to terrorize you.”

“Second,” he grabs a rag from the counter and begins wiping down tables while she cleans the espresso machine, “I’m not going to deny that I’m a Slytherin, if that’s the response you were expecting.”

She smiles widely at that, something she can’t seem to stop doing around him, because he’s right; that is kind of what she was expecting. But it makes her like him even more, knowing that he’s not afraid to own it, despite the fact that they’re both _way_ past the target audience age-range for Harry Potter.

“And finally,” he stops wiping briefly to meet her eyes, “who says it’s not self-serving if I’m getting something out of it. You know, like a date with the gorgeous, witty girl who, honestly, kind of intimidated me as a kid.”

The words are cocky, but the expression on his face betrays adorable nervousness. She’s also kind of pleased that he thought she was intimidating.

So she smiles, and banters right back, “Don’t act so sure, I can still change my mind.”

She’s definitely not great at pretending to be mad when she’s not, and she’s sure he’s noticed. He responds easily, “And here I thought Gryffindor’s were always true to their word.”

That’s about when she realizes that, although Bellamy Blake is incredibly hot now and, really, impressively smooth, he’s still a huge fucking nerd.

And she kind of loves it.

They go out for dinner instead of coffee when Clarke complains that the smell of espresso is permanently absorbed into her hair, and the end of the night finds them curled up on opposite ends of Clarke’s couch, trading details about their lives. She teases him about not having Friday night plans, which of course makes it incredibly easy for him to return the jab. She is here with him after all.

She doesn’t know if it’s the fact that they grew up together, or just _him_ , but she feels comfortable and stupidly warm around him.

So when gets up to leave sometime past midnight, she gets up too, playing a hunch, and leans up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

He doesn’t leave that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably clarify that I'm not 100% convinced that Bell is Slytherin, but he's either that or Gryffindor and it wouldn't be as fun if they were the same house. Clarke is definitely Gryffindor though. I might actually fight you on that (but probably not).
> 
> P.S. I don't know what Clarke's talking about, the appropriate age-range for Harry Potter is literally ALL ages.
> 
> Come hang with me on tumblr, if you'd like! (www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com)


End file.
